Son of Vulcanis
by Wolf XIII
Summary: The first in a series of stories. Read if you like the Daemonhunters, and feedback is always appreciated


Grand Master Doratius entered the chapel, his arms folded in front of his chest. He walked to the altar and lit the sacred incense, kneeled, and began praying. Not a single sound could be heard within the great stone chapel. Silent as the grave, the calm before the storm. Doratius breathed deeply allowing the pure smoke from the burning incense to fill each of his three lungs. He exhaled, the smoke now mere faint wisps of white vapor curling up from his nostrils. He stood, readying himself for the battle that was to come. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs again with the thick white smoke. "I am the will of the Emperor," he whispered softly, thin billows of grey smoke swirling form his mouth as he spoke. "I am his sword and his shield. I am the embodiment of his holy fire, his wrath. By my hand will his enemies be purged, by my lips will his word be spread." Doratius took another deep breath, the holy incense filling his chest. He spoke again, "The Emperor's will surrounds me, penetrates me, is the source of my strength." Another breath. "My blood I will shed for him. My soul I will sacrifice him." he said, louder now. He drew in another breath, and spoke loudly, bellowing. "Immortal Emperor! I offer the blood of our enemies to you!" With that, Doratius turned and walked from the chapel.

"Push forward!" Grand Master Doratius shouted, putting a round from his psycannon through the skull of a plague marine. The Grey Knights had broken through the defense line laid down by the blighted traitors. They had to be quick... the chaos marines might succeed in summoning the daemon at any minute. "By our righteous fire will the world be cleansed of the taint of Chaos!" he roared as his Nemesis weapon, forged into a great halberd by the artificers on Titan, cleaved through two of the disease ridden marines, putrid liquid and noxious fumes flowing from the wounds. Brother-Captain Pelarios and his Purgation squad, armed with incinerators, formed up behind the Grand Master. Doratius swung his weapon, dealing death in wide arcs while jets of white flame leapt from behind him, reducing the sons of Grandfather Nurgle to smoldering piles of ash.

Suddenly, two bolter shells slammed into Doratius' shoulder, knocking him to one knee. He looked to where the shots came from in time to see a Plague Marine burning to death. Brother-Captain Pelarios stood guarding Doratius from further attacks.

"Are you alright, sir?" came the voice in Doratius' ear bead.

"Yes..." Doratius said standing up. The HUD in his visor told him that there was no serious damage to his armor. "Stay the course!" he shouted, blocking a chain sword and firing off a psycannon round into the wielder's chest, "Do not falter! By the Emperor's might, we will prevail!"

Doratius' words brought forth a mighty cheer from the Grey Knights behind him, who redoubled their assault. Doratius slowly waded forward, his armor streaked with sickly blood and grime, the plaid tartan he wore on his waist covered in the blood of his enemies. The parchment covered in holy scriptures winding its way around the haft of his bloodthirsty weapon soaked with blood. As one, the Grey Knights slowly advanced, dealing death by fire, psycannon, storm bolter, and Nemesis weapon. Doratius launched a hail of death from his psycannon, mowing down a group of the disgraceful marines, when suddenly the latticework of silver hexagrammic wards beneath Doratius' skin burned and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "Enemy psyker! Everyone down!" Doratius commanded, and his battle brothers all hit the floor. Doratius turned to see where the Chaos Sorcerer was and managed to find him just as a bolt of noxious green lightning lurched from atop his staff. Doratius could not move away fast enough and the attack hit him full in the chest, knocking him back a few steps. He smirked for a moment, surprised that the attack merely knocked him off balance, but his eyes widened when a nauseous feeling overtook him and he began coughing uncontrollably. He raised his psycannon and fired a burst of rounds taking out the Sorcerer as his system struggled to neutralize the disease in his body.

"Sir..." one of the Grey Knights began.

"I'm fine." Doratius said. "Push the attack!"

Doratius stopped coughing and recovered from the spell, and looked forward again. For a brief moment, he could see where his enemies were trying to allow the servant of Nurgle from the warp into realspace. He roared his fury and laid waste to three more of the Marines with one sweep of his halberd. As if realizing the Grand Master had seen his goal, the plague marines formed a wall of soldiers between Doratius and the warp gate. Doratius growled in anger and began to concentrate. He detested using his psychic abilities, the thought that the energy of the daemon-realm was flowing through him made him feel unclean... but in times like this, he knew it was the only way to achieve victory. The wards tattooed onto his skin burned as he unleashed the psychic energy in a technique dubbed, "Holocaust," for a good reason. The blast of psychic energy obliterated all of the marines in a wide area in front of the Grand Master. The shock wave of the blast sent the marines lucky enough to avoid the obliterating blast to the ground, giving Doratius enough time to charge through the enemy line. Brother-Captain Dallus and his terminator squad made it through as well before the wall closed and erupted into a fierce melee. Doratius rushed the warp gate as Squad Dallus covered him, but stopped in his tracks as he came face to face with a figure in what was once Terminator Armor. Now it was a mass of disgusting, contagion-infested armor, no doubt concealing a hideous, bloated denizen of chaos. A helmet stylized to look like a grinning daemon concealed his head. Grand Master Doratius of the Grey Knights had come face to face with a Chaos Lord.

"Foolish misguided servant of the False Emperor... you can kill all of us, but you can not stop Grandfather Nurgle. Eventually your pitiful defenses will fail and the Lord of Decay will descend on your impotent Emperor and he too will succumb to the Great Plague," The Chaos Lord said, his very words sounding like they were diseased.

"Not likely traitor... As I live and breathe I will end you and any of your brethren I face." Grand Master Doratius said, and leapt at the viral Chaos Lord, his halberd ready to stick his enemy like a pig. The Chaos Lord laughed and blocked the attack with his sword, a foul weapon with a blade that wept poison and acid. "Arrogant as well... just like your Emperor. I am Bazaraph... among Nurgle's favored servants... you will not defeat me."

"Now who's being arrogant...?" Doratius said as he brought struck out again. The two combatants traded blows even as the Plague Marines and Grey Knights fought behind them. It was obvious to each man that he faced a practiced opponent. Every blow parried by another. Then Doratius managed to slip past his enemy's guard and strike a sound blow to his head. He grimaced in disgust as his attack merely knocked the helmet off the Chaos Lord's head, revealing the hideous visage of open sores and myriad boils. Bazaraph took advantage of the split second pause and struck out, hitting Doratius square in the shoulder. Doratius howled in agony as the blade bit through his armor and into his shoulder. He could feel the acidic pus eat at his flesh. Just as Bazaraph removed his sword from the wound to strike again, Doratius drove the point of his halberd into the Chaos Lord's stomach.

"Heh heh heh..." Came the voice from behind the putrid helmet. He sounded almost... happy. "You have failed, servant of the False Emperor."

Doratius was confused for a split second, and then it hit him like a thunder hammer. He looked past Bazaraph and saw the Daemon coming from the warp gate. He roared in anger and ripped his halberd upward, the psychically reactive material crackling with blue energy as he split Bazaraph in twain from belly to the top of his head.

An earsplitting noise resounded across the battlefield at the barrier between warpspace and realspace tore asunder and the Great Unclean One materialized before Doratius' very eyes. The Greater Daemon slew the heretics that summoned it, its massive sword dripping with acidic pus and yellowish bile. The heretics screamed in agony as the various diseases the sword carried destroyed their bodies. Doratius steeled himself and looked back at the battle. His battle brothers fought hard; locked in combat... he would have to face this Daemon alone.

Doratius stood in front of the vile shambler. "Denizen of the warp... your presence is an abomination. I, Grand Master Doratius of the elite Grey Knight Terminators, will send you back to the warp form whence you came."

The Daemon looked at Doratius and laughed, pus and bile spilling from its gaping maw onto the ground, where it sizzled like water touching hot metal. "Foolish mortal... entire worlds have succumbed to my pestilence. What can a single human do against me?" The multitude of creatures known as nurglings crawling over the Daemon's skin chattered and giggled, as if mocking the Grey Knight.

Doratius gripped his halberd and steeled himself, charging his foe. The Great Unclean One laughed and hefted its massive sword above its head and brought it down with crushing strength. Doratius held his weapon with both hands and raised it to block, preparing himself for the impact. The Daemon's sword hit with such a force Doratius was thankful his halberd did not snap in half. He felt his feet sink into the ground with the weight put on him, the servos in his armor whined and his HUD flashed red. Then he felt as though his shoulder, where Bazaraph had wounded him, had burst into flame, so great was the pain. When the Daemon raised his weapon to strike again, Doratius wasted no time and thrust his halberd at the Daemon's belly, striking a sound blow.

The Daemon roared in agony and anger while nurglings jumped from its body onto the Grey Knight, trying to penetrate the weak points in his armor. Doratius grunted as he wrenched his weapon from the belly of the walking plague, bringing forth gouts of sick brown liquid, and then shook the nurglings from his body. He looked up just in time to see the Daemon's other hand reaching out to strike him. Doratius moved, lessening the blow somewhat, but one of the Daemon's fingers still managed to rip the helmet from the Grand Masters head. The first thing that hit him was the awful smell. Worse than all of the other stenches Doratius had experienced in his entire life, he was sure the odor would have driven a normal man insane. He steeled himself against the stench and hurled himself forward, lashing out with his weapon. The Daemon shrieked with every cut Doratius made, but did not seem to be weakening. With surprising speed, the Daemon thrust with his blade, spearing Doratius in the shoulder before he could react. Doratius howled as some of the worst pain he had ever felt in his life spread throughout his body from the wound. The Great Unclean one withdrew his weapon and Doratius fell to his knees, mentally trying to purge the Daemonic pain from his body. The greater Daemon laughed and raised his weapon, ready to strike the Grand Master of the Grey Knights down.

Suddenly, silver flashes of light exploded on the side of the Daemon. Doratius looked up to see Brother-Captain Dallus and his squad firing volleys of psycannon bolts at the Daemon. The walking mass of disease turned to counter-attack, but the volley of fire kept him at bay. Doratius stood, his left arm hanging limply at his side. He smiled. Dallus knew the psycannon bolts would not even come close to killing the daemon, but that was not the purpose of the barrage. Doratius flipped his Nemesis halberd over the back of his hand holding it so the blade was down. He began chanting the litany that would banish the daemon back to the warp. "From the light I attack thee. Back to the warp, I banish thee. From my hand comes the purging fire. Back to the warp, I banish thee. My soul burns with righteous power!" Doratius called as he crouched, then jumped, the servos in his armor whining as they assisted his jump. Now he finished the chant, shouting, "Back to the warp I banish thee!" The Great Unclean One turned just in time for Doratius to come down, driving the blade of his halberd into its gaping maw. There was a great noise, a hideous lamentation of violent anger and wounded pride as the greater daemon of Nurgle was banished back into the warp from whence it came.

The passing of the daemon back into warpspace unleashed an explosion of energy, knocking squad Dallus to the ground and sending Doratius flying. Doratius felt himself falling through the air, and was aware of a dull thud before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Doratius slowly came back to reality, dimly aware of a sharp pain in his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw the stone vaulted roof of the monastery, an apothecary tending to the grievous wounds in his shoulder. "The battle?" he said, still groggy.

"Won..." came a familiar voice. Brother Dallus. "After you destroyed the greater daemon, the plague marines fell apart."

"Damage report?" Doratius asked.

"We lost Brother Julian and Brother Gaius. Brother Decimus, Brother Vulcanus, and Brother Cornelius do not look like they are going to make it. Other than that, just minor wounds."

Doratius felt the sting in his chest. It was never easy losing soldiers under his command. He needed to keep his mind off the deaths of his comrades now... there would be time for grieving and remembrance later. "My armor?"

"Bloody, with lots of nicks... the left shoulder was almost destroyed. The artificers are already repairing it."

"My weapon?"

"In perfect condition. Even the scriptures on it were unscathed."

Doratius then closed his eyes, content to lie still while the apothecary finished mending his wounds.

Grand Master Doratius entered the chapel, his arms folded in front of his chest. He walked to the altar and lit the sacred incense, kneeled, and began praying. Not a single sound could be heard within the great stone chapel. Silent as the grave, the calm before the storm.


End file.
